Undesirable
by angelicxdiscord
Summary: A terrorist cell operates against Voldemort's regime during the Dark Lord's reign of power. A revamped and updated version of Semiautomagic.
1. Chapter 1

"Do you work at Ollivander's? Because I've got twelve inches of wood for you to polish."

I hate nightclubs.

Without stopping, I planted a hand against his shoulder and forcibly removed him from my vicinity. His drunken ass stumbled back a few steps and was absorbed by the crowd.

For three reasons.

"Hey, gorgeous! You look like you need some Skele-Gro. You're missing my bone in your body."

My hand may have accidentally slipped as I passed, and I may have accidentally relocated the contents of his glass all over his face. I lost sight of him as he furiously tried to scrub the alcohol from his eyeballs.

That would be reason number one: the patrons. More specifically, the quality and concentration of said patrons. On one hand, you have the bar area, where recent Hogwarts grads and creepy over-the-hill Ministry powerbrokers are brought together by the prospect of alcohol and temporary companionship. On the other, you have the dance floors, roiling pits of humanity, all wandering hands and grinding hips. Personal space was nonexistent. People flitted in and out of my comfort zone, leering at everything from my neck down.

Which brings me to reason number two: required attire. All feminine garments must a) be backless, b) feature a plunging neckline, c) bare the midriff, or d) have an annoyingly short hemline. I'd gone with e) all of the above, AKA guaranteed admission. Even plastered with a roll of double-sided tape, I was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. Not my preferred way to draw attention. Call me old fashioned, but I like it when people talk to my face, which is hard enough as it is.

But my apparent lack of modesty had gotten me past the bouncer, through the doors, and straight to reason number three: the mandatory wand check. It seemed a little excessive, stripping away my best friend at the entrance. "For the patron's protection," was the official statement I got. "When the alcohol starts to flow, those Unforgivable Curses…. yeah."

A brilliant candidate passed on the left, the one who deviated from his route to "accidentally" brush against my bare shoulder. He could do with a little dying. And the idiot following me, the one whose eyes were glued to my ass. He could do with a little suffering. And that group of… Okay, so they do have a valid point. Still, parting with one of my wands, even temporarily, was a little heartbreaking.

Anyhow, the important thing was that I had managed to gain access to the most popular club this side of the Thames: the Crucifix Lounge. And I certainly wasn't wasting this opportunity. Nursing a club soda within sight of the basement access stairwell, I was hoping to meet a certain Lounge regular, Mr. Kenneth Darby. Wealthy. Handsome. Respectable standing in the magical community. Enjoys wizard chess, Quidditch, and the occasional mass incarceration of Muggle-borns. You know, someone with a smidge of that bad boy charm.

The earpiece lurking beneath my long auburn hair crackled to life. Justin's voice flowed out of the speaker. "Spotted him."

Nova chimed in a couple minutes later. "Got him. In your proximity, Alex," she told me. "Two o'clock. Dance floor, next to the gogo dancer. He's all yours."

A quick glance in that general direction confirmed her statement. "Lucky me," I sighed, just loud enough for the microphone embedded in my choker to transmit.

I took a couple of deep breaths. _The sooner I do this, the sooner it'll be over. The sooner I do this, the sooner it'll be over._ And I dove into the tangled mess of flapping hemlines and sweating faces, doing my best to imitate the dancers around me. _Come on, please please please look this way._

Nova came back online. "Relax! You're young, you're sexy, you're here to have fun. There you go, move with the crowd – Alex! He didn't mean to touch your – stop that! Just move along, move a –"

"Shut up, shut up," I growled, nursing my bruised knuckles.

"Touchy, touchy. Remember, eye contact! And smile like you mean it! All right, he's looking…"

There. Our eyes met. I unleashed my best come-hither smile and a small part inside me died. You know, that part labeled "principles."

But Darby's eyes ceased wandering and locked onto mine.

He swept into a little bow when he reached me, somehow avoiding contact with the dancers around us. I extended an arm, wrist bent delicately, allowing his lips to brush my fingers, letting his hand snake around my waist. Draping my arms around his neck, I leaned in, breathing a sensual whisper in his ear.

" _Imperio._ "

The Floating Point wand, surgically implanted in my right arm parallel to the radius and ulna, conveyed the Imperius Curse from my palm to his left shoulder. He stiffened – _DANCE_ \- and started shaking his moneymaker like a drunken prom date. "Hooked him," I whispered, pulling Darby close, inconspicuously rummaging through his pockets. "Jackpot."

I could hear Nova's brilliant smile through the comm. "Nice. See you outside."

To keep up appearances, Darby and I held hands all the way out of the club, stopping only to pick up our confiscated wands. Then we waded through the hordes waiting outside, queuing for their turn in the little club of horrors.

Nova caught up with us as we emerged from the impatient crowd, oblivious to the dozen or so men eyeing her with intense interest. "Wow, he really is pretty," she noted, brushing a handful of blonde hair out of her face and giving Darby the ol' up and down with her baby blues. "Shame what we have to do to him."

I shrugged. "No big loss. Justin, we're out," I directed that last bit at my choker.

A set of headlights blazed to life across the street, turning towards the club. From the shadows emerged a magenta minivan, a suburban monster designed to transport a large suburban family and their weekly suburban grocery haul.

"Clothes!" I demanded as Justin pulled up to the curb. Robes emerged from the driver's window, dropping into my arms. I draped the cloth over what little I was wearing, and my uneasiness evaporated. It was good to be properly covered again. "Thanks."

Nova was slightly more mission-oriented. "Where's the cooler?" she asked, hauling the van's armored sliding door open.

The small entrance gave way to a studio-sized room that functioned as both an armory and an emergency room. The whole shebang was lined with armor plating and slapped onto a flight-capable engine. Arthur had outdone himself this time.

"Here." Justin fished a near empty vial out of the styrofoam box beside him and tossed it at Nova.

 _Sit_. Darby sank into a chair, one of those stainless steel things designed to survive a nuclear blast and keep on truckin'. I broke out the handcuffs and strapped him in. Just in case.

Nova extracted the vial's remaining liquid with an eyedropper. "Remind me to make more," she sighed.

 _Open up._ Darby obliged, allowing Nova to empty the eyedropper down his throat.

I let the Imperius Curse dissipate as the Veritaserum hit Darby's digestive tract. Then it was Nova's turn to work.

Control questions first. "What is your full name?" she asked.

"Kenneth Jason Samuel Charles Darby."

"What's your place of residence?"

"1138 Fallen Leaf Lane."

"What is your daughter's name?"

"Agatha."

Check, check, and check. Time to move on to mission critical topics.

"Where is the master list of Muggle-borns and Undesirables located?"

"In the Senior Under-Secretary's office at the Ministry of Magic, in the file cabinets against the back wall."

"Are there any other copies of the list?"

"No. The Under-Secretary likes to personally handle these cases."

"Who maintains the list?"

"The Registration Enforcement team. James Twombles, Tyler Crumper, Judy Harris, and myself."

"Is there any way to arrange a team meeting?"

"Yes. We have a weekly meeting Monday mornings at the Ministry."

Four days from now. Not fast enough.

Nova's thoughts aligned with mine. "Anything faster?"

"Not within standard protocols."

"Non-standard protocols, then? Specifics, please."

"If someone… embarrassing to the Ministry is detained, an emergency meeting at a randomly selected public location is called to determine potential courses of action."

"What qualifies as embarrassing?"

"Direct relatives of essential Ministry officials."

I looked at Nova and raised an eyebrow. "You down?"

Her cheerleader smile nearly blinded me and placed a hand on Darby's shoulder. "Of course! I'll dress him up!" She tapped her chin with lavender nails. "Now, where can we do this… you know what? I know just the place."

It was obscenely late by the time everyone was situated according to plan. Darby was once again under my Imperius Curse, suspiciously bulky under his robe. He paced slowly around an "unconscious" Nova, waiting patiently for his colleagues to arrive at the derelict railway station.

Three faint pops.

I swept the area through my telescopic sight and found three new players approaching from the west. I dropped my crosshairs on the left figure's sternum.

The flying carpet bobbed slightly under me, and I shifted to compensate for the movement. The barrel-mounted laser rangefinder on my CheyTac Intervention noted this shift and recalculated the distance (521.2 meters) between the barrel and my victim's chest. The sensors read in data, including humidity and air pressure, which was fed to the ballistic software on my mil-spec PDA. There, numbers were crunched and I adjusted the Intervention's crosshairs accordingly. "The rest of his team is here. You guys ready?" I transmitted.

"In position," Justin reported in.

"Mmmhmm," Nova responded without twitching a muscle.

The three wizards cautiously approached the meeting site. The woman called out to Darby, her voice captured and amplified by my directional mic. "Flash."

I had Darby give the correct countersign. "Thunder."

Darby's colleagues relaxed visibly at the correct countersign. Pleasantries were exchanged and they gathered around Nova, getting their first good look at her.

Shocked recognition spread from face to face.

Nova's eyes snapped open. "Fire in the hole," she deadpanned before sticking out her tongue, flipping them the bird, and Disapparating from the station.

Beneath Darby's robes, the receiver sewn into his vest intercepted the electromagnetic signal from Nova's remote trigger, activating the electrical detonator. The C-4 payload, distributed among several pockets, expanded in a cloud of fire and compressed air; the shockwave ripped open the plastic bags packed around the explosives, sprinkling the air with twenty kilos of ball bearings.

Welcome to Anti-Wizard Combat 101. Lesson number one: whenever possible, engage wizards via proxies to minimize risk. Friends, colleagues, and family relations work especially well.

I kept an eye on the aftermath. Darby I'm pretty sure was dead, judging by the pieces scattered about. One of the others, the one with half a skull, was probably also dead. The last two were sprawled haphazardly on the concrete, alive and breathing. Kind of. There were a few leaks.

Justin teleported into my crosshairs, a suppressed H&K USP nestled in his right hand, to present a .45 caliber solution to the survivor issue. The wounded male received a double tap to the brainpan.

Lesson number two: no quarter. Kill any and all wounded combatants; wizards have a nasty habit of healing themselves and/or others.

When Justin moved to execute the female survivor, my directional mic picked up her final words. "Blood traitor," she spat and broke the Taboo. "Voldemort."

The curse attached to that name immediately broadcasted her location to all hostile personnel operating in the greater London area, turning the railway station into ground zero for the local bathrobe brigade.

As the Snatchers began teleporting in around him, Justin calmly carried out the execution and, with a lazy flick of his Floating Point, uttered a single word.

" _Redanimatus_."

A sickly glow enveloped Justin's hand. Tendrils of grey erupted from his fingertips, intangible wires that snaked out and latched onto the corpses in his immediate vicinity.

It was disgusting. Don't get me wrong, I'm usually pretty comfortable with Inferi; I've seen Justin raise his fair share over the years. Typically, they're either a) the skeletal, sort-of-human-looking graveyard shambler or b) the post-autopsy, approved-for-general-consumption-at-wakes morgue product. The former ends up looking like a bad horror movie prop, the latter like your vanilla Inferius, with pale skin and cloudy eyes.

But, once in awhile, you have the bleeders, the ones that just haven't gone cold yet. Take Darby, for example. One moment, pieces of him were lying in an expanding pool of gore, nice and neat. The next, those pieces were in motion, spraying blood all over the place.

Three distinct pieces of Darby threw themselves at the first Snatcher to coalesce, tearing into the man with tooth and nail, eliciting a gurgling scream. The other three Inferi physically intercepted the incoming curses, forming an active defensive screen around Justin.

One of the Snatchers, a little sharper than the rest, burned down the female Inferius with the largest fireball he could muster.

Hello, target number one.

Breathe in. Breathe out and squeeze the trigger.

The Intervention's suppressor muffled the shot into something resembling a noisy nailgun, not loud enough to be noticed through the chaos below me. The .408 round punched through my victim's left orbital socket like an acetylene torch through paper.

Nova warped in to fill the gap left by the female Inferius, and I immediately dropped an Anti-Disapparition Jinx on the party. Once Nova got going, people tended to leave early. Justin tagged another Snatcher with a double tap right before Nova cut loose with her fully automatic AA-12 shotgun, an enormous thing that I suspected was half her bodyweight.

The Snatchers didn't stand a chance. Out in the open, no cover, no time to react. Her frag rounds disassembled a half dozen enemy combatants, and Justin immediately triggered another Reanimation spell, adding another collection of body parts to his little army.

Lesson number three: wizards excel at mid range combat. _Only_ mid range combat. Up close and personal? The wizard's screwed; a wizard can't outdraw a boomstick, and there are no known hand-to-hand practitioners in the magical community. Widen the gap? The wizard's screwed; a sniper beats a spellslinger at distance any day. I can reach out and touch a victim at two kilometers; a wizard's lucky if he can hit the broadside of an Olympic stadium at that range.

It was at this point that the dozen remaining Snatchers realized they weren't the monsters in this story. I suppose they had been expecting a cuddly Order fugitive or a naive Hogwarts student, not an experimental Colonial death squad.

The survivors attempted to Disapparate. Nothing happened. I took the opportunity to pop another one in the head.

Panic overrode rational thought, and the Snatchers defaulted to fight or flight. Ten went with flight. I picked off four of them, each with a single round in the back. The Inferi ran the rest down with splattery results.

The last two chose fight and squared off against Nova and Justin.

Nova was the quickest on the draw, with a whispered " _Trunco_."

An explosion ripped through her victim's thighs, searing through bone and muscle, amputating both legs in a vague splash of red. A gut-wrenching scream emerged from his throat as he went down.

The second survivor turned on Nova, determined to avenge his friend's horrific injuries. " _Avada -_ "

Justin's Disarming Spell interrupted the Snatcher. The wand landed neatly in my friend's hand and was immediately reduced to ash.

Left with no combat options, the Snatcher had no choice but to rush Justin empty handed.

Lesson number four: always separate the wand from the wizard. In situations involving violence, a wandless wizard is a dead wizard.

Justin carefully lined up his Floating Point and rewarded the Snatcher's efforts with a Killing Curse to the chest.

A pretty good night's work, all things told. Nova was looting identification cards from the Registration Enforcement Inferi when I landed the flying carpet. Justin and his Inferi were busy rearranging the deceased Snatchers, lining the pieces into neat stacks on the concrete platform.

My contribution was to patch up the maimed Snatcher. Sedate, arrest the bleeding, grow excess skin, seal the stumps. Easy peasy. I suppose I could have reattached the Snatcher's legs and ensured a full recovery, but I felt that a double amputation was better for the whole leave-one-alive-to-tell-the-tale narrative than an intact survivor.

Before the three of us piled into the minivan and took to the sky, Nova threw up a Funny Mark over the station. Voldemort and his ilk had their skull and snake thing. Whatever. We had our smiling poop emoji thing. The sedated lone survivor sat directly beneath the Funny Mark, propped up against Justin's stack of corpses, a friendly reminder to Ministry security forces to tell their families "I love you" before heading to work.

Nova distributed the looted identification cards as Justin piloted the minivan toward the Ministry of Magic. After some idiots hopped up on Polyjuice botched a break-in last September, Ministry security measures had gotten pretty ridiculous. ID cards were now required for access; each card was embossed with a pattern that shifted every half second and was carefully synced to the protective spells guarding the structure. Attempt entry without a card and kiss your civil liberties goodbye.

We arrived at the Ministry in time to join the morning rush. Justin dead dropped the minivan's keys in a prearranged public garbage can for our getaway driver, and the three of us seamlessly merged into the crowd of Ministry personnel streaming into a pair of nondescript public restrooms.

I wish the Ministry had chosen another front for their primary entrance. It would have allowed us to avoid the unsanitary consequences of combining the word "public" with bodily functions. I swiped my ID card across the worn stall's lock and approached the toilet with some trepidation, dipping my boot into the bowl. Okay, so I knew this wasn't actually a restroom, but hey, it's against human nature to voluntarily step into a toilet bowl.

My feet remained pleasantly dry. One concern alleviated.

My hand paused on the chain, and I took a moment to focus. The next part would be a little tricky.

I flushed the toilet.

I found myself standing in a fireplace (now that was some insane logic, connecting a u-bend to a hearth) and spotted the red-robed security guard manning the security checkpoint at two o'clock.

" _Obliviate_ ," I whispered. The memory charm hit him before he registered my presence. It took a second to append my face to his mental list of Ministry employees. He waved me through without a second glance.

I emerged from the fireplace into the Atrium, a large space occupied by a ridiculously conspicuous statue depicting a witch and a wizard sitting on a chair of humanity. Big, bold, totalitarian, adorned with painfully obvious symbolism and a "Noun in noun" slogan. Very Big Brother.

Justin found me first, followed seconds later by Nova. Her eyebrow developed a strange twitch when she saw the statue.

Oh no. I quickly grabbed her hand and lead her away from the Atrium, pulling her through the gates and into one of the waiting elevators. Justin was right behind us.

As soon as the doors closed, Nova broke open her purse and handed out the hardware. I nestled the KSG shotgun against my shoulder and pumped the action, chambering a shell.

"Level one, Minister of Magic and Support Staff," the elevator announced.

"Come on, this way," Nova whispered.

We made our way into the labyrinth of corridors. Passing Ministry personnel gave our firearms baffled looks, but none interfered with our progress. I wasn't surprised. There aren't many wizards who would recognize a gun, much less take them seriously.

Nova held up a fist, halting our forward progress just before the hall took a ninety degree turn. "Hold. We're here."

Three fingers extended from her fist. "Three, two, one…" she ticked off.

Nova rounded the bend, her KSG up and tracking. I was right on her heels.

As we stormed the room, I caught vague glimpses of desks, chairs, floating parchment, a dozen desk jockeys, and two security guards. Security got the first taser shells; both collapsed in a mess of spasming muscles. The paper pushers got the rest. The three of us worked our way systematically through the Ministry employees, downing everyone as they tried to escape.

Nova tagged the last conscious target and darted through the shower of pamphlets, making a beeline for the prominent mahogany door at the other end of the room. I caught a glimpse of the name Dolores and the word Under-Secretary before Nova blew the door off its hinges with a " _Confringo!_ "

And lit off every Caterwauling Charm in our vicinity.

Shit, shit, SHIT! If Nova weren't so focused on the end goal and paused to think for two seconds, maybe it would occur to her that _setting off alarms_ would be a bad idea. Decreases our chances of survival, so I've heard.

Well, that cut down our timetable rather drastically. "Justin, get them out of here, now!" I roared over the wailing alarms.

A pulse of grey, and the incapacitated Ministry employees jerked upright, suspended by invisible strings. Justin flicked his wrist, and the limp bodies shuffled awkwardly out of the room, away from us and towards relative safety. Which, you know, tends to be the same thing.

Nova stepped out of the office, ripped the daisy-chained pins out of a bandolier's worth of incendiary grenades, and heaved the whole shebang back the way she came. A string of detonations later, and Dolores had her own personal bonfire.

"List destroyed?" I asked as Nova walked by, briskly dusting her hands off.

She glanced toward the raging inferno. "I'd say so."

Well, time for my contribution then.

I waited for Justin and Nova to exit the room before saying, " _Ignitus._ " Fire erupted from my Floating Point, a stream of plasma that reduced everything it touched to ash. I scythed the torrent back and forth across the headquarters of the Muggle-born Registration Commision, erasing the Ministry's anti-Muggle department from existence.

Justice via property destruction achieved, I sprinted after my friends, navigating the maze of corridors at reckless speed, half-expecting a Killing Curse at every corner.

None came. In fact, we made it to the elevators without encountering any opposition. Huh. Maybe we had overestimated the Ministry's security forces.

The elevator's golden grilles closed safely behind me, and the alarms faded away. Nova tossed me a crumpled wad of card stock and parchment. "Here. Got you a souvenir."

"Aw, you shouldn't have."

I smoothed out the report. A Eurasian lady with long auburn hair and hazel eyes glared back at me. I sighed. Of all the photos floating around, they chose this one. I can explain the shredded clothing and the bruises on my neck, I swear. See, there was this giant Devil's Snare, and all I had was this tiny lighter…

Attached to the picture was a short synopsis.

 **ALEXANDRA SINCLAIR**

* * *

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood with unacceptable Muggle leanings. Known member of the Chocolate Mr. Whippy (?) terrorist group. Former member of Experimental Unit Sierra, Colonial Department of Mysteries.

FAMILY: Thomas Sinclair (father, Muggle), Irene Mori (mother, pureblood). No known siblings.

SECURITY STATUS: This person has been designated UNDESIRABLE NO. 66. Guilty of mass murder, acts of terrorism and sedition, breaking and entering, impersonating a Ministry official, illegal use of Acid Pops. At large, considered armed and extremely dangerous. Last confirmed sighting: Diagon Alley.

KNOWN ASSOCIATES:

 _Chocolate Mr. Whippy:_ Justin Chang, [NAME REDACTED]

 _Order of the Phoenix:_ the Weasley family, Cho Chang, Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

* * *

Chocolate Mr. Whippy? It took me a moment to convert the British English to American English. Chocolate soft serve. Honestly, the quality of Ministry staff these days.

Okay, okay, I have to give credit where credit was due; besides that soft serve bit, the Ministry analysts had put together a fairly accurate report. They even got the Sierra designation correct; that information wasn't easy to come by.

"Undesirable number sixty six?" I complained. "I have a two-digit body count and I haven't broken top fifty? Who's number one?"

"Harry Potter" was Nova's reply.

Justin frowned. Um, let's just say he doesn't like Harry very much, not since those few months Potter dated his cousin. Now those were interesting conversations; they'd begin with Cho calling in tears after a fight with Harry and end with Justin cleaning his USP, staring at a lit fireplace. I'm still not sure how many times I managed to talk him out of hauling across the pond and murdering the Chosen Boy Who Lived.

I veered off that subject at top speed; shouldn't mention Potter to Justin lest there be homicidal consequences, especially now we were on the same side of the pond. "Right, so once we reach the Atrium, we should – "

A frigid shiver crawled up my spine, wound its way down my throat, and dropped into the pit of my stomach. A gloom descended on the elevator, a blanket of despair that smothered all thoughts and senses.

"Level Eight, Atrium," the elevator announced.

The doors cracked open, revealing row upon row of slimy scabbed hands and tattered robes. A lumpy woman in black and gold stood at the forefront, graced with a velvet bow and a passing resemblance to Jabba the Hutt.

Dolores Umbridge.

Flanking her were two men.

Death Eaters.

Fuck _._

A twittering laugh emerged from Dolores. "You didn't expect to get away with this, did you?"

I winced. That was one high-pitched voice.

"Do you know what the Ministry does to – " Dolores's voice trailed off when she got a proper look at us. Her eyes bulged and her mouth gaped open, as if she had just swallowed something particularly sour.

Nova stepped forward. "Hello, Mother."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A deafening stillness crashed through the Atrium, interrupted by a flick of Dolores' wand. " _Expecto Patronum._ "

A silvery cat landed at Nova's feet, and the world became a cheerier place. Dolores' gaping maw snapped back to human-like proportions, and she snarled, "What do you think you're doing, you stupid little girl? You'll go to Azkaban for - "

"Where you left Dad to die? No thank you, _Mother_."

"November Melissa Umbridge," Dolores coldly enunciated each syllable. "You will not talk to me that way. You know perfectly well what he got mixed up - "

Nova threw a staggering amount of shade into her next words. "Is that why you framed him? Just because he was bitten by a were - "

"SHUT UP!" shrieked Dolores. "SHUT UP SHUT UP! YOU WILL NOT MENTION THAT FILTHY ANIMAL - "

Nova's eyes flashed with rage, and Dolores caught the wrong end of Nova's taser shell mid-sentence, collapsing like a spastic bowl of Jello. This caused quite a stir among Dolores' allies, and an emergency broadcast immediately echoed through the hall. "ALL MINISTRY PERSONNEL, UNDESIRABLES LOCATED IN THE ATRIUM. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL. LOCKDOWN PROTOCOLS ARE IN EFFECT - "

I sighed. Well. Guess we're doing this live then. I suppose if we were going to improvise, violence was a solid call.

Based on the composition of security forces arrayed against us, we defaulted to our standard combat arrangement: Nova and Justin rolled straight at the Death Eaters, leaving me to engage the Dementors from a safe distance.

I wrinkled my brow. A lazy summer afternoon. Three figures, teenagers, lazing about by the sea. The one with long auburn hair, idly filling out a crossword puzzle, rested her head on the Chinese boy's shoulder. Completely oblivious to her presence, he turned a page, absorbed in his novel. The blonde girl to his left scribbled on her pad, her pencil photographing the landscape. Whispering waves, clear skies, coarse sand that gets everywhere… " _Expecto Patronum_."

A huge silvery mess erupted from my Floating Point, smoothing out into a sleek canine form. The fox charged the Dementor's ranks, scattering them like frat boys before a breathalyzer. Ah, I love Dementors. Fighting them is just so easy.

Nova's boomstick boomed again -

Her target casually slapped the shell aside with a wave of his wand and a vaguely condescending sneer. "Tanner, these fuckers have firelegs," he called out to the second Death Eater.

"I know, Gupta, I know," was the exasperated response. Tanner's wand blurred through an incantation, and my shotgun melted into a water.

Fuck.

"It's _firearms_ , you ignorant plonker," a slightly damp Nova muttered as she adjusted to her sad gun-less existence and blocked Tanner's stream of curses with a Shield Charm.

Justin didn't miss a step when his KSG melted. As the water leaked through his fingers, the droplets warped, flattening out and freezing into a loose cloud of razor-sharp hexagons. With a flick of his wrist, Justin blessed the shards with velocity and sent a shotgun blast of icy shrapnel in Gupta's general direction.

There was another condescending sneer, and Gupta's Transfiguration spell swapped Justin's ice shards out for cotton balls. "You'll have to do better than that, fucking blood - "

I swept in on Gupta's blind side and whispered, " _Avada Kedavra_."

He spotted my Killing Curse at the last second and was forced to divert resources away from his stupid mouth to avoid my thoughtful little present. Yes, yes, I know Nova (and by extension, Justin and I) had agreed to Charlie's ridiculous restrictions on lethal force for this little field trip to the Ministry, but the opportunity to murder a couple Death Eaters was just too good to pass up.

Gupta skewered me with blazing eyes and lashed out, slinging a kneejerk " _Crucio_!" my way.

I didn't even have to alter my trajectory; the spell missed me by about three meters. I raised an eyebrow.

This prompted a passionate speech from Gupta questioning my virtue and my mother's career choices. I rolled my eyes. I've heard better. I sent another Killing Curse his way, deliberately aiming at his feet in a show of contempt.

Hoo boy. That set him off. Gupta was halfway through a statement disparaging my reproductive system when Justin ghosted in from behind to implement lesson number four: a wandless wizard is a dead wizard.

Justin's arm blurred through a single downward stroke, and the kukri's heavy blade slid through Gupta's arm with supernatural ease, taking the Death Eater's wand hand off just below the elbow.

That's what you get for monologuing in the middle of a fight.

As Gupta sank to his knees and started blubbering about his boo boo, Justin torched the Death Eater's wand and casually tossed the severed appendage at Tanner. " _Redanimatus_."

Tanner never saw it coming. One moment he's happily trying to survive all of Nova's explosions, and the next, there's an undead arm sinking its fingers into his throat. Life just wasn't fair sometimes. His concentration faltered, and Nova plugged him in the chest with a spell that blew him in half.

"Level Eight, Atrium," a chorus of elevators announced, and a red tide of Ministry security personnel flooded the Atrium.

"FREEZE! DROP YOUR WANDS! DO IT! DO IT NOW!" screamed a security officer with leadership potential.

Justin ignored that directive; he calmly walked up behind Gupta, grabbed a fistful of hair, and decapitated the Death Eater in front of our live studio audience.

Every single red robe froze in shock. Most went pale. A couple dozen vomited. Understandable. Violence in the magical community isn't usually quite so… visceral; they're used to cuddly PG-rated _Avada Kedavra_ pillow fights, and we'd just given them a front row seat to a hard R slasher flick.

Justin lobbed the head in their general direction. The frontline collectively recoiled from the rolling bundle of hair and bone.

Yeah, time to get out of here while they were still reeling from that senseless act of -

A chain of explosions walked up the hideous piece of totalitarian "art" dominating the Atrium, reducing the stone witch, the stone wizard, and the stone chair of humanity into an artistic pile of stone rubble. Nova released a satisfied breath, and threw up the Funny Mark to complete her deconstructed masterpiece.

Ministry Security was mildly offended by that. I didn't blame them, really. I mean, first their lovely statue gets blown up. Frowns all around. Then the hooligan responsible literally places a smiling pile of shit over the shattered remains. That tipped the mob mentality from the no-thank-you-I-like-my-head-where-it-is cringe to the oh-no-they-didn't roar.

I glared at Nova as we tactically advanced away from the horde screaming for our blood. "What?" she asked. "It had to be done! That thing was so ugly. And stupid."

We sprinted toward the fireplaces -

Which were magically bricked up to prevent our escape. Of course.

I glared at Nova. She rolled her eyes. " _Expulso_!"

Nova's spell hit the sealed fireplace, reducing the brick to dust and wishful thinking.

The three of us dove through the wreckage and emerged in an all too familiar toilet stall. Justin didn't bother with the knob; he just put his shoulder down and plowed straight through the door. Air tinged with an inadequate amount of cleaning fluid flooded my lungs as I followed him. Nova brought up the rear, blowing up the innocent toilet behind us before breaking out a compact mirror. "Charlie!" she shouted at its reflective surface. "We need a pickup!"

"Pulling up now!"

We were almost out when they emerged from the other toilets. It was far more ominous than it sounds.

The three of us hit the exit at a dead sprint, beelining for the magenta minivan idling at the curb. The sliding door rumbled open and our getaway driver, Charlie Weasley, poked his head out. "What happened? What - "

Charlie's eyes widened when he saw the howling mob on our tail. He immediately dove back into the driver's seat and disengaged the parking brake.

The three of us piled into the vehicle, and Nova screamed, "GO GO GO!"

"GOING GOING GOING!" Charlie roared back at her.

The car kicked off, rising at an absolutely glacial pace away from the Ministry -

And straight into a cloud of broomsticks and red robes. A half dozen spells slammed into the armor plating, staggering the vehicle. Nova careened around dangerously for a moment before hooking her arm around the driver's headrest, fingers scrabbling across Charlie's chest for stabilization. His hand left the steering wheel to grab her hand.

Justin immediately threw up a Shield Charm around the minivan. A dozen spells smashed into the translucent dome, throwing off sparks.

"I thought I recruited you lot for covert operations!" Charlie Weasley growled as he fought to keep us aloft. "What about this is covert?!"

I glared at Nova. "Nova had to blow up the statue in the Atrium."

Charlie looked over his shoulder, adding his glared to mine. "Oh, well done, Nova, well done. Was that" - he levelled a finger at the Ministry security forces pursuing us - "worth it?"

"Yes," Nova sniffed primly as she pressed a button on the dashboard to pop the trunk. "You didn't see the statue. It was ugly."

Cold air swirled through the minivan, making a fine mess of my hair. I also got a fine view of our pursuers forming a loose umbrella above us, battering the minivan down to an elevation of two meters.

A particularly powerful volley of spells shattered Justin's Shield and smashed into the roof of the minivan. We took a hard bounce off the pavement before Charlie was able to regain control. He stomped on the accelerator and roared, "Okay, everyone needs to start hitting back! Now!"

The three of us complied with his request, and Nova asked in a sickly sweet voice, "Charlie, love, why haven't we jumped yet?"

Charlie imitated Nova's sickly sweet tone. "Because, dear, you activated the Minisitry's Anti-Disapparition field when you blew up that statue!" He reverted back to his normal voice. "Remember when I asked you not to do anything stupid because there's a ten kilometer Anti-Disapparition field that would make our lives difficult? THIS IS IT!"

Nova swatted his shoulder and pouted at him. "You don't have to yell, you know. How much further?"

Some of the irritation bled out of his voice, and he ratcheted down the volume. "Sorry about that babe. Almost there! We just need to…"

His voice trailed off as the temperature plummeted, dropping thirty degrees Celsius in as many seconds. Condensation crept across all surfaces and crystallized into frost.

The minivan dipped and slowed. Charlie swore furiously. Uh oh. Our engine was a finely tuned piece of machinery that definitely wasn't rated for subzero conditions. A sad creaking emerged emerged as pistons began to stick and lubricant turned to jelly.

"Got this!" I called out.

I cranked open the passenger-side window and climbed halfway out of the vehicle. A small bead of concentrated warmth coalesced in my palm, and I floated it in lazy circles around the hood, melting away the gathering icicles.

"Thanks!" Charlie called out. I looked at him through the windshield and gave him a thumbs up.

My thumb was retracting when I caught movement in the windshield's reflection. Two shapes, high speed. I looked up just in time to see a couple red robes diving out of the sun. They leapt from their broomsticks and landed on the roof with impossibly loud thumps.

"What was that? Are they on the roof?" Charlie asked.

I levelled my Floating Point at one of the boarders. " _Crucio_!"

He screamed, his muscles locked up in pain, and he flew off the van. The pavement gently broke his fall.

The second turned toward me with unfriendly intentions. An intangible Justin, wreathed in tendrils of smoke, emerged through the van's roof and loomed over the boarder. As Justin solidified, his right hand clamped over the boarder's face, and his suppressed USP introduced a .45 caliber round to the the back of the boarder's left knee. As the leg collapsed, Justin caught the man's wrist and pulsed his Floating Point. There was a wet crunch, and the boarder's arm warped as the Shattering Charm obliterated every single bone in the appendage.

The boarder's wand dropped from his twitching fingers. Justin kicked the screaming man off the roof and gave me a nod.

Okay then. "Not anymore!"

"Copy that!" Nova called out to us.

Charlie's finger stabbed wildly through his window. "NOVA, PAY ATTENTION! INCOMING, THREE 'O CLOCK!"

"Jesus, no need to shout," Nova harrumphed. "I got him, I got him, I got him" - she missed - "nope, I don't got him!"

A Ministry Security officer smashed his way through the driver's side window, showering Charlie with delightful little glass shards. A massive forearm groped its way inside, trying to find a handhold inside the vehicle. The fingers found Charlie's throat, and the entire hand clamped down around his Adam's apple.

Charlie, turning slightly purple, took both hands off the steering wheel in an attempt to pry the officer's hand away from his windpipe.

" _Stupefy!"_ Nova screamed.

Somehow, some way, she threaded the curse through the narrow gap between the door and Charlie's headrest, planting the spell directly into the assailant's face. The officer fell away.

"Charlie!" In the space of a blink, Nova was at Charlie's side.

He caught her hand and answered her unasked question with a wheezing, "Don't worry, I'm okay."

She cupped his cheek with her palm and said, "That's nice, but are we there yet?"

"WE'LL GET THERE WHEN WE GET THERE!" Charlie roared. Then he checked his bearings. "Oh, we're there," he said sheepishly. "Everyone hold on!"

With a muffled _crack_ , urban London slipped away, pursuit replaced by lack of pursuit, buildings by grass, concrete by more grass.

We made it out. Thank God we added the armor plating. Don't think the van would've pulled through otherwise –

An explosion ripped the engine block right off the vehicle.

Yeah, it was one of those days.

Hindsight being what it is, the explosive surprise probably shouldn't have been a surprise. After all, the security officer did attempt to murder Charlie with one hand, which is a pretty high quality distraction for planting an explosive device on the vehicle with the other.

So there we were, fifteen feet and gravity separating us from a prominent amount of pain. With the van barreling ahead at breakneck speeds, things weren't look so -

Wait a minute. Altitude of fifteen feet. I could -

Too late. As I began to form that train of thought, the van thundered past the point of no return.

Desperate times, desperate measures. " _Protego_!" I screamed.

A protective blue dome appeared around me and immediately shattered when an errant screw bounced off of it. Yeah, the Shield is weak in this one.

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!" roared Charlie as soil and vegetation reached out to break my frail and squishy body.

My eyes met Justin's as he made a desperate lunge in my direction.

His arms closed around my shoulders, and his tackle carried me completely out of the passenger-side window and clear of the minivan.

" _Protego_ " I heard him whisper.

I looped my arms around his back and locked fingers right before his shield met the ground. We hit at an angle, and the world devolved into a confusing swirl of sky blue and grass green.

When all was said and done, I found myself draped awkwardly over Justin, my cheek against his chest. My entire body was one giant ache, and it took me a few moments to find my voice. "Everyone okay?"

Justin groaned, and I crawled off of him. "I'll survive... I think," he wheezed.

Somewhere in the background Charlie said something like "Everything hurts."

Nova flounced over, moving like she hadn't just gone through a minor crash landing. "Don't listen to him, he's exaggerating. He's good. I'm fine!" she said brightly.

Still on my back, I croaked, "Could you go get the med kit upstairs? We'll be right behind you"

She hesitated before Charlie croaked, "Don't worry, no one's home."

"Got it!" Nova said and booked it for the estate down the hill.

I'm not sure how long we remained immobile in that field, but I finally convinced my aching body to stand. I pulled Justin to his feet, found Charlie, and took inventory of our injuries. Cuts and bruises for me, scrapes for Charlie, broken wrist and fractured ribs for Justin. After another blissful moment of immobility, we finally mustered the willpower to stagger after Nova.

Picturesque grassy knolls gave way to the tangled chaos of the Burrow's… I hesitate to call it a "garden" because the word "garden" implies order and human maintenance. Amid the flora bedlam was the estate's main structure, a Frankensteinian style house that somehow featured no straight lines or right angles. An equally dilapidated farm and garage rounded out the rest of the property.

We had just passed the barn's flaking doors when Charlie came to an abrupt halt.

My wand arm twitched. "What?"

Charlie pointed wordlessly at his parent's bedroom window before sprinting for the Burrow's front door. It took me a few moments to figure out what was wrong with this picture.

The bedroom's lights were on.

Oh dear lord.

Justin and I glanced at each other before hobbling as fast as we could after Charlie.

Entering the Burrow is like a mediocre acid trip. The Weasleys had subscribed to the M.C. Escher school of interior design, and the resulting layout was a colorful explosion of stairs and superfluous support beams.

We took three steps into the house and walked into a different kind of explosion altogether.

"...TRYING TO GET HIM KILLED?!" Mama Weasley roared.

Charlie courageously and suicidally leapt between Nova and his mother. Before Nova could answer, Charlie wrapped his arms around her, crushed her to his chest, and turned her away from Mama Weasley. Nova pushed at his abdomen in an attempt to turn and re-enter the fray, her mouth opening to say something regrettable. Charlie just tightened his hug and gently buried her face in his sternum. No one could make sense of the resulting garble Nova shouted into his chest. It was probably for the best.

Charlie answered in her stead. "Mum, please be reasonable. We're at war. We all have to take risks."

Mama Weasley rounded on her son. "DON'T YOU DARE DEFEND HER! YOUR FATHER TOLD ME WHAT YOUR… _FRIEND_ PULLED AT THE MINISTRY TODAY! ENDANGERING YOUR LIFE FOR WHAT? PETTY VANDALISM?!"

Charlie, Justin, and I glanced at each other (November tried to join in on the fun, but Charlie was having none of that). Props to the Ministry spin machine; they really got in front of this one. Charlie asked, "That's all Dad mentioned? Just the statue?"

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. "JUST THE STATUE? THERE'S MORE?! WHAT ELSE DID YOUR… _FRIEND_ DO?!"

Charlie relaxed and took this opening to deflect that question. "Mum, we've talked about this. Nova's not my friend, she's my - "

"NO. NO NO NO. SHE IS NOT. HOW COULD YOU - "

Works like a charm everytime. Charlie winked and shoved Nova in my arms. I got the hint and hustled Nova and Justin up the stairs. Charlie settled in with a bemused smile to endure yet another lecture about his… _friend_.

The radio was on when we entered Charlie's old bedroom, Ministry propaganda disguised as a WWN news broadcast. Nova dug the first aid kit out from under the bed, and I gently placed Justin into a rickety old armchair. As I got to work on his wrist, the WWN broadcast switched to a new story.

"The popular statue featured in the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic was taken down for restoration today. Madam Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, in an official statement, has said, 'In order to preserve the fine details on this beloved statue and ensure that future generations can enjoy its beauty for years to come, we've temporarily removed the statue from the Atrium so our master restorers can care for this tremendous piece of art quickly and properly. It was a relative slow and uneventful day at the Ministry, so we felt that today was a good time to get this process started.' The statue, carved by the reclusive…"


End file.
